Free Threaded for Trouble by Janet Bolin Page A

filling out our applications. I went home, leashed the dogs, then walked them down Lake Street and around the corner to the fire station. It was closed up tight. I dropped our applications in the mail slot.
    After a quick supper on the patio while the dogs played around me, I examined the cords and trims I’d purchased from Edna.
    One way to create more authentic candlewicking stitches would be to zigzag over the trims with matching thread so the stitches would hardly be discernible, but I really wanted to find a way of forcing my embroidery machine to do the work, or most of it.
    Unable to come up with a method I liked, I went to bed.
    The inevitable siren from the fire hall woke me up in the wee hours. What was burning this time, another dry field?
    Fortunately, I didn’t belong to the fire department yetand didn’t have to race off into the darkness, even if it might mean riding on a fire truck. I allowed myself to lie comfortably, imagining different ways of representing candlewicking. Drifting off to sleep, I pictured using the puffiest of the cording I’d bought from Edna, and satin stitching over it every quarter inch to squish it down. The unsquished parts would be similar to the lumps in knotted candle wicks.
    In the morning, freshly confident with my nighttime idea, which, though labor-intensive, might work, I felt ready to tackle almost anything, including becoming a volunteer firefighter. I flopped down on the floor and tried push-ups. I could have done more if I hadn’t been laughing at Sally’s determination to lick my face. I collapsed in a heap with my two wriggling dogs, then took them upstairs and began sweeping the shop floor.
    Susannah helped in my shop on Fridays, and came in wearing an orange linen shirt. I complimented her on it. Before she’d assembled it, I’d helped her embroider the fabric in an allover design of small, pretty flowers.
    “I love working with linen.” Shadows under her eyes showed that she’d probably spent another night grieving over the death of her marriage.
    I knew something that might cheer her up a little. “We’ve received another shipment of linen, heavier for fall and winter.”
    She ran to the storeroom and dragged out a bulky package of multihued bolts, all shrink-wrapped together.
    A lanky man ambled in and introduced himself as Isaac Sonnenberg, deputy fire chief. “Congratulations, Willow,” he said, his long face a picture of earnest solemnity. “We’ve accepted your application to join the fire department.” His straight brown hair seemed to grow every which way. That, combined with the questioning pale blue eyes and the long arms and legs made him charmingly boyish, though I suspected he was in his mid-thirties at least.
    “Haylee, too?” I asked.
    He nodded. “Both of you.”
    Susannah straightened from unwrapping the bolts oflinen. Her lips and forehead puckered. I wished Isaac had brought the news when I was alone. Susannah might tell Haylee’s three moms that Haylee and I were joining the fire department. They wouldn’t approve.
    Isaac tilted his head. My reaction was apparently too slow.
    “That’s great,” I lied. “We have physical fitness and written exams to pass first, don’t we, before it’s official?”
    He flapped his big, bony hands toward the floor as if my concerns could be swept away with my broom. “You’ll do fine.” He pulled a folded sheaf of papers from the back pocket of his jeans. “Here’s the manual. It covers all the questions that will be on the test, like ‘What is a fire truck?’” His gave his head a shake to show he was joking. “Training’s Tuesday evening. I’m sorry it’s such short notice, but if you can’t make it, maybe another time?”
    He was offering me a way out. I told myself to snatch it.
    “I can make it.” I was never very good at heeding my own warnings.
    Isaac was as tall as I was, maybe taller. I could look directly into his eyes. He gave me the manual and told me to go to the